


Voodoo

by dramady, edonyx



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, lambliff
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Sometimes a dream isn't a dream. Sometimes it's reality.</p><p><b>Authors' Notes:</b>  A follow up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/94791">Cat Fancy</a>. Now with <b>guaranteed</b> happy ending! We swear it! Cross our hearts and everything!</p><p>For the LOLZ: <a href="http://icanhascheezburger.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/funny-pictures-hipster-cat-sweater.jpg?w=453&h=604">TOMMEH KITTEH</a></p><p>Find our OF <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Madeleine+Delaney&x=0&y=0">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Voodoo

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.

The very first time Adam brings someone else onto a bus, he wakes up with scratch marks on his favourite boots. It doesn't even matter if there was anything going on, really, it's just the fact that someone was there with _Tommy's Adam._ Tommy remembers this much, what it's like to be possessive and territorial.

The cat gets a _look_. Everyone, human and animal, knows better than to mess with Adam's boots. But the most Adam can bring himself to do is close Tommy in his room for the afternoon as they do soundchecks and stuff. Then of course, he cuddles the small body to his chest after the show in apology. "Just don't scratch my boots, okay? I love them. Though not as much," he's quick to add. "As I love you."

When the tour finally wraps though, even the European leg when Tommy got to live with Adam's mom, it's back to the studio and Adam's home. Tommy gets his own spot in the laundry room for his litter box and his special bowls with his name painted on them for his food and water. There's even a laser pointer, too, though the living room is made as safe as possible for a little clumsy cat. It's Friday and he has a invitation to go clubbing, so Adam is sifting through his clothes in the closet, summarily dismissing everything as he goes. He needs to go _shopping._

Tommy rolls around on the bed, chasing nonexistent threads and motes of dust, meowing at Adam when he wants attention. Which is every time Adam pulls out something glittery, and it catches Tommy's attention. More often than not, Adam wakes up with Tommy sound asleep, curled into a little donut on the pillow next to Adam's head, or tucked into a ball on the small of his back. Fully grown, he's not a whole lot bigger than he'd been as a kitten, so Monte calls him Hotdog, because Tommy's skinny and long when he stretches out.

"Mew!" Now's the time for Tommy to launch himself off the end of the bed to paw at Adam's leg with silver-capped claws. While Adam's out, Tommy'll sleep, but when he comes home, Tommy'll wrap himself around Adam's ankles and purr. _I love you too!_

When he does come home, Adam's make-up is smudged and he smells a little of alcohol and sweat. When Tommy slithers around him, Adam bends over to pick him up and he makes his way slowly to the sofa where he slumps low. "There were pretty boys at the club, but I bet you'd shred my favorite shirt if I brought one home, wouldn't you? You're playing hell on my lovelife, for a cat."

Tommy stands with his paws on Adam's chest, sniffing his face in tiny, delicate breaths, before squinching his face up to sneeze. Adam's nose is the recipient of a lick from Tommy's rough tongue before the cat curls up in Adam's lap, content, nearly smug, as if he remembers what his life had been like in those brief months he'd been human. Months where he and Adam had loved each other. His tail flips up and down on Adam's leg, and with a little wiggling, the curl turns into a sprawl. _My human._ And his human probably wants to go to bed. At least he's going with Tommy, so that counts for something.

"You're so cute," Adam whispers. "I miss you, you know. Human-you. At least you never sneezed on me. Would you hate it if I brought Brad home? Is there anyone on the okay list?" He holds Tommy gently by the shoulders to look at that sweet little furry face. "I wouldn't begrudge you if you brought a cat home, by the way. Sorry about that, still, you know." The whole neutering thing. Adam had winced the way through the process in sympathy.

After being neutered, Tommy hadn't bothered with Adam for almost three days, and then caved and went and cuddled up to him, even curling up against his shoulder when they'd been in bed to suck on his ear for comfort. And incidentally, Tommy likes Brad a lot: Brad picks him up and scratches between his ears and rubs the tip of his nose and gives him crunchy treats out of a bag that taste like _chicken,_ but they're _crunchy!_ Tommy just about goes insane when anyone - especially Adam - rattles the bag, and chances are high that he'll run into the doorframe to get to the kitchen fast enough.

A sound triggers a flail of paws and tail and body off of the couch where he skitters down the hall into the dark. _Thump._

"Oy," Adam sighs as he pushes himself up to standing. Does that mean Brad's okay? Because really, he needs to get laid.

And so it goes for a few months. His album starts to shape up. Adam goes out with his friends, has friends over, has quiet nights watching movies with his cat. He goes shopping too, and he and Dani take Tommy out, even, to one of those pet boutiques and laugh themselves silly over the little cat outfits and the leashes and all that. The paparazzi pictures that show up the next day show Adam carrying Tommy with Danielle saddled with the carry case.

In the mornings when Adam does yoga in his living room, more often than not, he cuts it short, because it's hard to do downward facing dog with a cat wanting to rub noses; Adam doesn't mind.

Monte brings the girls over now and then so they can visit with Adam; the babies come less frequently, usually only when Lisa's with him. Tommy lets the girls pet him, pull on his tail; he lets them put bows around his neck and brush his fur up so it's all pretty, and even struts around with his nose in the air and his eyes closed. Until he bumps into the leg of a chair, of course.

"Do you miss him?" Monte asks, watching the girls dangle a toy mouse at Tommy so he can jump around and bat at it. "Have you even been with anyone else? 'cause I've gotta say, if you're holding out because of a freak incident with a cat... that's kind of sad."

"Thanks for being so sensitive to my feelings," Adam laughs, which trails into a sigh. "I'm holding out so that he doesn't shred my wardrobe. You know me and my clothes."

Monte can tell right away that it's not quite the truth. So, sue Adam, he's a romantic, and what he had with Tommy has taken on a magical quality in his mind. "I don't know," Adam says quietly, toying with an abandoned feather. "Maybe he'll change back."

Tommy runs up to Adam and jumps into his lap with little 'save me' chirping sounds, and then climbs clumsily onto his shoulder to burrow down behind him.

"You guys had something," Monte adds by way of agreement. He's not making fun of Adam's romanticism. In fact, Monte thinks it's sweet in a vaguely strange way. "And I don't blame you for missing it. He fuckin' adored you." Monte looks at the girls, playing with the colouring books they'd brought, now that Tommy's made his escape. They're good girls, knowing all the bad words that Daddy might say, but also knowing that those words are for adults only. "You never know though, right?"

"That's what keeps me awake at night," Adam admits, leaning forward, smiling at the warmth between his shoulderblades. "Wondering. What if I find someone and he changes back and then it's suddenly like 'wow, who's the dude who's naked in your bed, Adam?' I mean, this kind of thing could only happen to me." And really, it sounds so ridiculous that he makes himself laugh, putting his face in his hands. "I know, I know."

But later, in bed, he really does lie there, looking at the cat who's sprawled out on the pillow next to him. And he wonders.

Christmas and Hanukkah pass, and the next big holiday is Adam's birthday, a year after Tommy was given to him. Instead of giving Adam a gift this year, since they're not touring, the band takes Adam out to Club Lush with a tab that Monte and Brad are covering. They dance and laugh and _drink_. And they drink and drink until LP and Monte help Adam into a limo amidst photographer's flashing lights, grinning and waving and sending him home in style.

Except, the door's unlocked when Adam gets home, and the alarm is keyed off.

"What is this." Adam's feet scuff on the floor as he holds his phone as an inept weapon. "Who's here?! If you're going to kill me on my birthday, fucking show yourself, you dickheads, so I can puke on you first. Or something."

It's been _months_ since Tommy's used a voice, and it's soft and rusty. The _Ah_ that starts Adam's name is cut off, so he clears his throat and tries again. "Hi, Adam. Happy birthday." From the livingroom, Tommy creeps out of the dark wearing one of Adam's t-shirts, and stands at the other end of the hall.

"Oh, no _way_. No. Way." Swaying on his feet, Adam gawps. "Oh no way. You're back? You're back. Or I'm hallucinating. I had like eighteen thousand shots." He takes one step then another. "Tommy?"

Tommy wraps his arms around Adam's middle and rubs his face on Adam's chest._Then_ Tommy guides him to the couch to sit down. "I had a nap after you left. Are you okay? Do you have to puke? Did you _really_ have eighteen thousand shots?"

"Oh, _Tommy_." Adam hugs him right back, nose buried in Tommy's hair, even as they're sprawling on the couch. "I missed you so _much_. I - I missed you _so much_." Maybe he'll puke later; he's not even thinking about it at the moment. "_Tommy_."

"Hi," Tommy answers, smiling, and nuzzles at Adam's neck. "I've got all my parts, too. Can I have a Coke? Do you want something to drink? It's your birthday and... we've known each other for a year. A whole _year._" His lips touch Adam's skin, a glance of words and breath that feel more like kisses. "I don't know if I missed you. I couldn't remember. But I'm glad to see you now!"

"You don't remember?" That seems unbearably sad to Adam and his sigh turns into a whine. "Wait, _wait_. Do you have - wait." He pushes Tommy away from him to look between his legs. "Oh, thank _God_. Thank God."

For a second, Tommy's face flushes bright, and he pulls Adam's shirt down over his knees again. "I just- I don't remember missing you like _this._ Like the relief I feel 'cause I see you now, you know?" As he talks, the t-shirt slips off his knees and fans out on Tommy's thighs, and Tommy moves his knees apart. "I'm really, really glad to see you."

"Look at your _face_." Adam cradles it carefully. "_Hi_. Hi." And he leans forward, finding Tommy's mouth with his. "I missed you so much," he whispers between kisses. "Everyday I missed you."

"Oh my god you're kissing me," Tommy breathes, and it comes out as one long blurry word. His hair's blonde, fuzzy, set askew by lack of combing, and his features are leaner and more defined. He's grown up a lot, and one of Tommy's long-fingered hands wraps around the back of Adam's neck. "Hi. Hi. Keep doing that, okay?" The part of him that hung around after he'd been neutered, well... it isn't exactly hanging.

"You sound exactly the same. You smell exactly the same, you ... you ... " Adam shakes his head, eyes nearly crossed from looking at Tommy so closely. "You. _Tommy_. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, you're _here_." And yes, he keeps kissing him. "You're here. I can't believe you're here. As a _person_."

"Mhm," Tommy answers, ducking his head to nip kisses at Adam's throat. For a moment, he pulls back, glancing up at Adam's face with dark eyes, and he strips the shirt off over his head. "You're still what I want."

Adam squeaks out a helpless sound through his alcohol-induced haze and his eyes rake over Tommy's body. "Happy fucking birthday to _me_."

The next thing Adam remembers is feeling like he's suffocating. Not a great post-coital sensation, as they go. Tommy, naked, skin _everywhere_ and mouths and ... other body parts, working together. So _good_.

But now he's suffocating. With a snorfle, Adam pulls his head back and discovers that he'd been suffocating because he was sleeping with his face in his pillow.

He's still in the clothes he wore at the club. "Are you - what? Seriously what," he gravels out. "What did I do to piss off the universe?" He rolls to his back with a groan, his head swimming and he calls Tommy's name, still thinking the dream he'd been immersed in might be real.

There's no answer. Tommy's fur is sticking up in every direction from the chair in Adam's room, and it's only when Adam calls him a second time that he lifts his head to blink both sleepy and confused before he realizes whose voice it is. Then there's a long stretch and a yawn, and Tommy tries to hop from the chair to bed and nearly misses. "Mrrr." Adam's confronted by a pair of amber eyes when the cat gets onto his chest to inspect him carefully.

"Mother_fucker_," Adam nearly sobs even as he's gently petting the cat. "You weren't real last night, were you." He wants to stomp and have a tantrum, but even just the idea makes his head pound. "But that was a dream, wasn't it? _Dammit_. Dammitdammitdammit." He closes his eyes again, willing himself back to sleep, in the hopes of forgetting that he's still pining for a boy who turned back into a cat. Because that's not pathetic at _all_.

When the album's finally done, Adam has people over for a listening party, the band of course, Brad, Sutan, Terrance, all the friends he can think of (and trust) and the wine flows freely. So there are wineglasses everywhere after everyone takes off and Adam's humming to himself as he gathers them up, taking them by the armful to the kitchen for the maid service to take care of tomorrow.

Tommy's up on the coffee table, sniffing into a wineglass with just a little bit left in the bottom. He takes care of it, no problem. Then it's on to the next one, and the one after that, and when Tommy goes into Adam's room to find his spot on the bed, there's the thud of him hitting his head on the doorframe. "Ouch."

Or was it just a meowch?

"Watch your head," Adam calls out by habit without even thinking about it.

Wait, what? Adam carefully sets the glasses down and he pats at his pockets. He needs a top or something. Where's his totem? Is he awake or dreaming?

Ridiculous. Though he does pinch himself on his way down the hall, coming to an abrupt stop in the doorway. "Well, shit."

"I hit my head." Instead of a shirt, Tommy's found a pair of Adam's shorts, and he's perched on the edge of the bed with his toes touching the floor. His hands rest on the tops of his thighs as he lifts his eyes to Adam's face. "I missed you."

"Oh, not again. This better not be a dream this time, or I swear, I will ... do something terribly drastic. I will - " Adam comes in to the room silently - he's barefoot after all - and he kneels down in front of Tommy, hands on knees that feel real. Bony and real. Then something melts in him. "Hi."

"Hi." Tommy touches the tip of his nose against Adam's. "You dreamed about me? The way I dreamed about you? That's awesome if you did." The knees come apart under Adam's touch so Tommy can lean forward and press his mouth against Adam's. "I forgot this. But-" He licks his tongue against Adam's mouth to get him to open it. The action speaks louder than the words Tommy would say: _But I remember now._

Adam sighs again, against Tommy's tongue and he crawls up over him on the bed, pushing the shorts down as he goes. "I dreamt of you, yeah. You - you as a cat - you dreamt about me? About this?" He catches Tommy's hands, lacing their fingers together. It feels so _good_. "Really?" More kisses. "That makes no sense."

"No, no, not like that. I forgot when I was like that. What it was _like._" Like this, where Adam's touch has Tommy wanting to arch, to purr, and his fingers tighten between Adam's. "I dreamed, before, and you said.. and we... it started. Kissing and touching and-" Tommy gasps, lifting his hips against the denim on Adam's thigh. "Until I changed again. It started with me dreaming about you. You're..." Tommy glances up at Adam's face. "You're beautiful."

"Tommy," Adam whispers and he leans back to look at him, to take in his face. "You're real? You're not a dream? Are you going to change back? Do you even know? I want to do terrible things to you and I think if you were turn back into a cat, I might just die a lot."

"I don't _think_ I'm a dream." To prove it, Tommy rakes his fingernails down Adam's back, pulling him closer. "Don't know about the other one. I don't want to. I didn't want to in the first place. And I don't want you to die. You can't." Tommy burrs his teeth against Adam's jaw before asking right against his ear, warm and breathy, "What kinda terrible things?"

"Oh my God." Goosebumps race over Adam's back. "I hate not knowing." But then he's kissing Tommy again, deeper this time. No time like the present and all that. "I'll show you." And he braces his weight on one hand and uses the other to reach between Tommy's legs, stroking.

"_Oh,_" Tommy gasps. He's clumsy as hell when he's on his feet, but on his back, he's lithe and graceful, arching up a muscle at a time, hips pressed into Adam's stroke. His heels brace against the bed, thighs spread to accommodate Adam, and when Tommy's head falls back, it's so he can watch Adam's face, a soft lower lip caught between his teeth. "Oh- oh shit."

If this is the one chance he's got, Adam's not going to dilly-dally. He learns Tommy's body, the feel of warm skin, where to kiss, the effect of soft bites on Tommy's nipples, on the points of his hips. The sounds that he makes when Adam sucks on his cock (and thank God, the neutering had NO effect on that, right?). All of it. And he doesn't stop when he reaches for the lube either, slicking over his fingers. "We left off here. You changed back before we could ... I ... okay?" He asks, kneeling, flushed and staring at Tommy's face.

"Yes. Yes." Tommy's even nodding, lips parted so he can force himself to _breathe_. His body's tight, hot, cock throbbing against his hip from Adam's _mouth_, and when Tommy glances at Adam's fingers, he's shot through with dark fear and searing bright lust. "Yes."

"Okay. I'll make it good for you, I promise. Fuck. Oh, _fuck_." Adam's hands are shaking a little bit, no matter what he does. But he blows out a breath and rests a hand over Tommy's heart. "Okay. God." Then he starts to work a finger inside, eyes keen on Tommy's face. "You're beautiful."

Tommy's lashes flutter down to kiss his cheeks, and he tips his head back, lips parted on something that's neither breath nor sound. His body tightens around Adam for a second, getting used to the sensation of it, then relaxes a little bit at a time. "More. 'm ready." It's so _slick_, and Adam's finger doesn't hurt as much as it feels _odd._ Beneath Adam's other hand, Tommy's heart pounds.

"I can't believe we're finally going to do this. This is like the most extreme case of coitus interruptus in the history of the world." But as he starts to twist in two fingers, Adam leans down to kiss Tommy again, sucking on his tongue, eyes still open to see, to catch every _minute_.

"What's - coitus - interruptus?" Words are broken up by Adam's kisses, and when Adam sucks on his tongue, Tommy's hips jerk up. He cries out into Adam's mouth, utterly enthralled with the way Adam's fingers move inside him, and the swipe of his cock leaves a damp line on Adam's hip.

"What happened to us. We were going to do this and then we couldn't. Now we can." In a brief flash of a moment, Adam wonders if he's taking advantage. But he dismisses that thought and scissors his fingers.

"Shit," hisses Tommy, knees falling akimbo as his nervous system just gives up entirely to what Adam's doing to him. Tommy moves restlessly, a hand coming down to ghost his fingers down the length of his cock. When the touch turns into a circle of fingers and then a stroke, Tommy tightens up around Adam's fingers. "Oh my god. Oh my _god._" He wants to touch Adam, too, but the flurry of sensation leaves Tommy with his other hand flat on Adam's ribs.

"Don't come yet, okay? Not yet. God." Adam reaches for the condoms and draws out a package to rip open and get the latex out. Then he's rolling it on, teeth clenched. "I missed you so much," he whispers, leaning in for a kiss as he pushes in. "I just missed you so much. Fuck!" He can't but throw his head back, eyes slitting at how _tight_ it is.

The steep slide of Adam's body into Tommy's drives away any urge to come _right now_, but it also focuses Tommy's attention on how it feels like _heat_ and _stretch_ and _take_, and he roughs out a forced breath that sounds like a purr. Fingernails dig into Adam's back for a brief, sharp moment, then Tommy braces his weight on an elbow to lick up the front of Adam's throat. "I still love you," he husks against the point of Adam's chin. "I missed you and I still love you."

"Oh, shit." That's enough to have Adam going still, face buried in Tommy's shoulder for a moment before he raises his head and looks at him. "I love you too. I kept waiting for you to come back."

There isn't anything Tommy can say to that; when he was a cat, he thought differently, felt differently. It wasn't love like _this_ that he'd felt: it'd had been the need for his human to make sure he knew that Tommy loved him, _adored_ him. This is nothing close to that, not in intensity or sheer consumption of emotion. Instead, Tommy lunges up and catches Adam's mouth with his own.

It doesn't even bear thinking about, how long it had been since Adam has done this. Brad, probably, at his place, at least two months ago. But it isn't even just the fucking. It's _Tommy_, how he feels, how he moves, how they move _together_ that has Adam panting and rutting, taking kisses and stroking Tommy off.

"Oh god," Tommy groans, whispery and low, and hooks a leg around Adam's hip. Somehow, that deep pressure and the sensation of being spread open has turned into something else that's decidedly more delicious, combined with the stroke of Adam's hand, and it makes Tommy's body shiver up tight around Adam in a rhythm that Tommy himself is unaware of. All he feels is Adam. All he sees is Adam. All he tastes is Adam's mouth, hears Adam's breath, and it's _incredible._

When he comes into the clench of Tommy's orgasm, Adam keeps saying, over and over again, "Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't _leave_ me," and when he collapses onto his side, Tommy pulled close, hands still touching, stroking, _petting_, he kisses the words into Tommy's mouth, "please stay."

"Forever," Tommy promises, even though he knows that forever is impossible. He nuzzles against Adam's face, against his shoulder, finally tucking his face into Adam's neck. "Forever," he whispers, and hopes as hard as he can that he'll never change back. It's there that he falls asleep, secure in the warmth of Adam's body.

The next day, he's still human and Adam doesn't let him out of his sight. He's got things to do and Tommy goes with him. To Lane's office (she really does an admirable job at not falling out of her chair when she sees Tommy; there's a reason Adam's paying her the big bucks) and in the car, he does get a little laugh out of dialing Monte's cell and having Tommy talk to him. A little bit of shopping - documented by photographers of course - and then back home where Tommy's undressed again and spread out over the bed so in the light of day, Adam can map his body again using fingers and his tongue.

There's nothing in Tommy that could say no to this, not when _waiting_ for it had been his last clear human memory. Adam knows how to reduce Tommy to a shivering mess of limbs and torching desire, hands buried in hair as black as night, his voice tight and low when he says Adam's name. Talking to Monte had been fun, Tommy's missed him, too, and playing guitar, and sitting with Cam with his head in her lap. But most of all, Tommy's missed Adam.

_Lambert's Blond Boytoy Bassist is Back!_

It doesn't take long for the gossip rags to remember who Tommy is. Not that Adam cares. He still doesn't let Tommy out of his sight if he can help it, even as the publicity tour starts again, morning shows, late night shows, Oprah, Ellen, all of that, Tommy just off to the side. Maybe, Adam thinks, if he doesn't let Tommy go for any length of time, he _can't_ change back. Diligence, maybe, is key.

Every now and then, Tommy's interviewed for a website or for radio. He doesn't have much to say, answering questions as directly as he can when they're asked. And though Adam has him everywhere, Tommy's never tired of being in Adam's company, or his arms, his bed, and most importantly, his heart.

Neil's glad to have someone who laughs at all his jokes, back. There's the laser pointer that leaves Tommy with bruised shins and laughing hard enough that he has to sit down - with Adam, of course - to catch his breath. Tommy takes to Brad, listening to the way Cheeks chatters about everything he knows about, which is a lot. Tommy smiles and nods and looks solemn at the right parts, and laughs at the right jokes. He likes Brad.

But when Tommy slips into Adam's bed, it's with kisses and swipes of tongue and touches that grow bolder, the longer he's human. He's desperate not to give this up again, or have it taken away from him. "I love you," he whispers into the join of Adam's hip to his body.

"Oh, God," Adam whispers, "I love you too." So much. Tommy's tongue is just that little bit rough and it makes him shiver. His toes curl and he throws his head back, fingers buried in soft blond hair.

That rough tongue circles around the head of Adam's cock, tasting skin that's hot and smooth and _hard_ as stone. Tommy's fingertips trail up and down Adam's skin in a pace that matches the flick of his tongue and the soft O of his mouth when he closes his lips around Adam. The sound Tommy makes reverberates around Adam, muffled and wanton.

The sounds Adam makes are equally debased, getting higher and tighter the closer he gets to coming. Really, he thinks abstractly, he shouldn't take advantage, but then, well, Tommy doesn't seem to be complaining. And he is, technically, an adult. And really, after all they've done, this whole mental conversation is ridiculous, but it does stave off his orgasm for just a little bit longer. At the first pulse of his cock on that tongue, though, there isn't any more thought of what he should or shouldn't be doing.

Tommy actually pulls back to lick Adam through it, rather than sucking on him, his hand moving in counterpoint to the long swipes of his tongue. Being taken advantage of isn't something that's ever even crossed Tommy's mind; to him, Adam loves him and he loves Adam, and this is the culmination of feeling that way. When Adam's come hits Tommy's lower lip, though, Tommy groans again and licks it away.

In the space of a month, Adam goes from being undersexed to being what some might call oversexed. He doesn't care. And he still doesn't let Tommy out of his sight. When it comes time to plan the next tour however, it's Monte who sits them both down and says what no one else will say. "We can't plan on having a bassist who might change back into a cat when we least expect it."

"But - "

"Adam?" And Monte cocks his head; it's his dad face.

Adam can't argue with his dad-face. He squeezes Tommy's hand and sighs.

"I can't play with you?" Tommy asks, brows drawn together. "I _like_ playing with you. I don't want to change back. I don't think I'm going to. I don't _want_ to. I want to be onstage with you." It's been over a month, and every time he's woken up, it's with an arm around Adam's ribs, or it's to be caught in the warm embrace of Adam spooned up behind him. Monte's face reminds Tommy of that time he threw up in one of Monte's shoes, and it makes Tommy feel like his insides are jumpy and tight. "I'm sorry that I don't know, though." Adam gets a glance. The last time they'd been onstage together on tour, he'd changed back, leaving Adam alone.

"And we're out a bassist. We can't risk it."

The music director speaketh. The HBIC doesn't like it, but he can't argue with Monte's logic, even if it feels like a barb through his chest. He tugs Tommy close to his chest and pets his hair. Monte does get a glare, though. For what it's worth.

"Maybe there's someone we can talk to," Adam says, walking from corner to corner in his living room. "Like a ... I don't even know." Who does one talk to about keeping his boyfriend-who-used-to-be-a-cat-then-a-boy-then-back-to-a-cat-back-to-boy about? It's ridiculous.

Tommy watches the way Adam moves, the way it almost seems like he prowls in thought, and asks Monte, "Can I still come with you though?" He'd gone on the last tour minus the European leg, in both feline shape and human. "I'll try really hard to stay like this." Adam gets another look that Monte catches, one that's full of hope and affection and the fear that this might not last, either. "Please?"

"He's going with us," Adam answers before Monte can even draw breath. That is not up for debate. Tommy's going.

"Maybe you should go to New Orleans, see a witch doctor or voodoo priestess," Monte says and he's mostly teasing, but Adam stops pacing, turning to look at him with his eyes wide.

"Why didn't I think of that?!"

Which would explain how, not twenty-four hours later, Adam and Tommy are in New Orleans, on Rampart street, entering a glass door into a small gift shop that fronts the Temple of one Priestess Miriam.

Soft music plays and incense fills the air.

"Is this lady going to change me back?" Tommy asks, looking all around. There are fetishes hanging from the walls, artwork and symbols, and he's enthralled by all of them. His hand comes up as if to touch these things that don't belong to him and that he doesn't understand, and they're both greeted by a warm female voice.

"Hello, children. What brings you here?" Priestess Miriam appears from behind a curtained door and smiles at them both. "I know what it is. You need my help."

"We do," Adam says when he turns. "I called yesterday? We spoke on the phone. I'm - " Adam takes off his sunglasses and his hat and he smiles; Miriam's face is kind. "I'm Adam and this is Tommy ... ?"

"Of course," Miriam answers, gesturing for them to sit. "You have trouble with the form of Tommy's soul. It seems as though it cannot decide..." A hand is held out to Tommy, gauging the energy that comes off of him. "...if it should be one, or the other. First, we will talk, and then I will lift the burden from you both."

She busies herself to make tea for the three of them, and asks Adam over her shoulder, "How great is your love for him?"

"Um." Unused to quantifying it, Adam sits there for a moment, Tommy's hand in his. "Um." He loves how Tommy's eyes seem to be a soft, readable brown, not really dark. "I love him best of all, I guess."

"That is the proper start. Once you are relaxed and have had your tea," which is set down on the table, with milk and sugar cubes, "we will go into the Temple and I will use the Rada to bring harmony to this relationship." Tommy's fingers might be laced tightly into Adam's, but Miriam puts her hand over both of theirs. "Tell me your story."

Perhaps it's not Adam's story to tell, but he tells it anyway, of how Cam gave him the kitten for his birthday, how he went to bed with a kitten and woke up with a boy, how the boy then changed back, and changed again. How Adam had _missed_ Tommy when he was a cat, how, he even admits, he lives with the fear every day that Tommy will change back. Not that, he hastens to note, he didn't love his cat. He just loves the boy more. A lot more.

By the time Adam tells their story, the tea is done (and Tommy's had about five sugar cubes, right out of the bowl). Priestess Miriam gestures for them to stand, and she leads them back into the Temple, surrounding them in candles that light the air with warm flame. "Sit, sit," she starts. "This is not a curse, but a soul that shares more than a single body. I will bind this soul to this form, if it is what you are both sure you desire."

"Yes," Tommy answers immediately. He's said almost nothing until now, letting Adam speak for him. "I want to stay like this."

Miriam answers with a nod, and bids forth Ezili, the Voodoo Goddess of Love, by drawing out her sign on the floor with sprinkled cornmeal and soft, summoning words. First, Miriam blesses Adam, for his heart and for the love he has for Tommy, and then it's Tommy's turn to be touched and brushed so Miriam can take the secondary form from him. Tommy doesn't watch Miriam, though; he watches Adam. Adam is his safety.

It's comforting, the whole ritual, actually. Adam cups Tommy's face and smiles at him, trying to coax a smile back. If it actually works, well, that's to be determined, but at least they're trying, and he sincerely likes the priestess. God, he hopes this works. He just can't do anything but hope it really does work.

When it's finished, Tommy doesn't feel any different, but they've made an effort and that's got to count for something. The both of them are blessed by Miriam and then they're set free onto the humid streets of New Orleans, hand in hand. Tommy still feels uneasy. "Can we get chicken kebabs?"

"Yeah." Adam finds himself watching Tommy. He doesn't feel any differently, does that mean it didn't work? Shouldn't he feel, Adam doesn't know, more solid or something? Will they be destined to worry, for, like, ever?!

But they get Tommy a kebab and they sit along the water on a bench. "I love this city," Adam says, sipping at his sweet tea, for something to say.

"Thanks for bringing me here," Tommy answers, resting his head on Adam's shoulder for a moment. Then he's picking the chicken off of the kebab and eating it, letting the background noise of people around them fill the silence. It's only silent for so long before Tommy has to ask, "When do we go back?"

"Tonight. I wish we knew if it took or not." Because, yeah, Adam wants to know if his fantastical cat-boy would stay a boy. So, sue him. "C'mon," he said. "Let's do a little shopping before we go. You can't come here and not shop, right?"

"Sure," Tommy agrees, easily enough. There are _lots_ of stores with hoodies, the skinny kind that can be worn in the heat, Tommy's favourite. He holds Adam's hand the whole time, except when he's trying things on. Then he pokes his head out of the dressing room and makes a little hissing noise for Adam to come in with him. "Fsst! C'mere."

Pulling away from the rack of clothes he was parsing through, Adam walks over, grinning at how mussed Tommy is. "Yeah? Did you find another hoodie that you just have to have?"

Tommy nods, then pulls Adam into the change room with him. "I just... I wanted to say thanks, 'cause I don't know what's going to happen and I hope it _doesn't_ happen, and I'm nervous, and-" He closes off his own words with a kiss to Adam's mouth, hands on the sides of his neck to pull him in. "And I really want this hoodie."

"Of course you do." Laughing, Adam pulls Tommy into a hug. "I guess we'll get it for you, then." After a few more of those kisses.

Ultimately, what's most interesting is that each day, Adam worries just that fraction less, until after six months, he goes days without worrying that Tommy the boy will return to being Tommy the cat. And his lack of worry is what startles him. They're on the bus in the middle of Oklahoma of all places and he sits up straight, jarring Tommy from where he'd been draped over him. "You're ... " And he even looks a little abashed. "You're still you."

"Yup," Tommy answers. Neil doesn't bother him with the laser pointer anymore; in fact, the laser pointer isn't even _fun._ He's still not exceptionally graceful, but he doesn't hit his head on things often, anymore. Stubbed toes and bruised shins are the worst he gets, now, and with Adam's revelation, Tommy climbs over Adam's lap to sit on his thighs and look down at him. It's uncannily similar to the way he'd climb onto Adam's chest as a cat and inspect him to make sure he's alright. Except instead of sniffing Adam's face, Tommy touches his mouth to Adam's, soft and brief, one-two-three.

"I'm glad," Adam whispers, keeping Tommy right where he is. Though, he thinks, maybe they should get a cat.

On second thought, no. That might be tempting fate. Or something. He's not sure.


End file.
